Balancing on Luck
by TheCatalystx
Summary: The streets of Gotham are plagued with immoral people, doing unspeakable things. Enter Ellen, a woman who's in the catering business by day, and none of your business by night. She's just doing what she needs to get by. At least, that's what she tells herself. Then she meets a rookie cop, who makes her call everything she thought she knew into question. (Longer description inside)
1. The First Encounter

_Description_

_The streets of Gotham are plagued with immoral people, doing unspeakable things. Enter Ellen, a woman who's in the catering business by day, and none of your damn business by night. She's just doing what she needs to get by. At least, that's what she tells herself. Then she meets a rookie cop, who makes her call everything she thought she knew into question. All her life, she's been balancing on the thin wire of luck - between disaster and survival. Could he be just enough to tip her over the edge? And if so, which side will she land on?_

* * *

It was dark out, but one seems to forget such a thing in an atmosphere like this. The lights over the pool twinkled a rich golden color. Hanging in a crisscross fashion overhead the entire backyard of the estate, they seemed to create their own sunset, and cast the perfect glow onto the party below.

"Slacking off again?" Sneered a man in a tightly pressed suit. His hair was slicked back, and his stance was formal. For someone who frequents these things, it's hard to _not _know who he is. And if the headset didn't give it away, his accommodating nature that suggested a day-to-day trifle with rich snobs who have bad attitudes would give it away for sure.

Also, he seems to take some sick pleasure in scolding his underlings. "No. Not at all." The woman smoothly replied, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She wore the same uniform as the rest of the female division of this catering business did. "That would suggest I have a mind of my own, and worker bees don't think, do they?" She smiled a sickly sweet, patronizing smile at her boss.

His lip curled in annoyance. "Table twenty-two seems to be scarce on the Quince Paste." When she didn't move, he paused from scribbling on his clipboard and looked directly at her for the first time that night. He shooed her with a flapping hand, "Go! Make haste! Before I throw you to the pit."

She let an insincere curl tug at the corner of her lips. "Of course," Her hand fluttered out as she mockingly curtsied to him, ducking her head. "Mein fuhrer." She even went so far as to stick her left hand up and salute him, clicking her heels together before efficiently darting away from the fire in his eyes.

Weaving through the party guests, she offered them flutes of champagne from her tray along the way. Once her tray was so full that a less experienced person would surely lose balance and dump all of the expensive glass, she made her way to the kitchens.

Her black high heels sunk annoyingly into the grass with each step. The molars in the back of her mouth ground together, her jaw clenching as she silently seethed.

_Banquets_. She thought. _More like socialite gang-bangs. I hate my job_.

She nodded politely at a rigid old man, the wrinkles in his face seeming to sag down to the floor and cover his facial features. The leech hooked onto his arm seemed to barely be of legal age, and on a moment's consideration, she decided the likelihood that she _isn't_ legal was favorable.

She waited until they passed to allow her disgusted sneer to escape. Truthfully, the help wasn't supposed to acknowledge the guests. But she found that she couldn't resist; she is not some lawn ornament. If she wants to be polite and say hello to someone, she'll do as she damn well pleases.

"Edward," she greeted as she set down the empty flutes on the expensive counter top. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen was always crazy; her fellow employees dancing around each other with trays full of food and drinks.

The sweaty chef turned for a moment, his movements jerky and hurried as they always were on nights like tonight.

"Oh, Ellen," He said, turning back to the steaming pot on the stove. "Long time no see. Been busy?"

"My lips are permanently puckered." She muttered, alluding to all the ass-kissing this job requires.

Edward let out a hearty laugh. "Surely it isn't that bad!"

"It wouldn't be if it weren't for Hitler." She stepped back to allow a cart full of desserts be pushed out the door behind her. As the doors swung open, sounds of the party trickled into the stifling kitchen.

Edward let out a grunt of agreement, shrugging a shoulder. "That's probably true – _hey_! Not the nutmeg, you idiot! _Cumin! Cu-min!_" He threw a handful of something at his sauté chef. "Do you want them eating sweet Ragout!?"

"Alright, alright," the scolded cook spat, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Nutmeg and cumin look identical when they're ground! Maybe these things should be labeled!"

"L-" Edward reeled back, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. He turned in exasperation to Ellen. "Labeled!? It's your goddamn _job _to know the difference, you _imbecile_!"

Ellen bit back her smirk, and Edward seethed to himself for a few more moments before turning back to Ellen. "Anyway." He sighed. "Yes, he did seem rather moody tonight, didn't he?"

"Maybe he's under a lot of stress," The sauté chef suggested. Ellen raised her eyebrow at him, and Edward whipped his head around so fast, she winced _for _him.

"Hey!" Edward snapped. "Don't you have some sauce to fuck up?"

The sauté chef clamped his mouth shut and grunted, turning away from them and muttering under his breath. Ellen giggled in amusement, smirking at Edward.

"He threatened to throw me in the pit again." She said.

Edward's eyebrow raised. "I bet you responded quite well to that."

"His reign of terror needs to be stopped," Ellen snarled her lip.

"He'd sooner kill himself," Edward shook his head.

"Then let history repeat itself, I say," she pushed back from the counter and glided past Edward, making her way towards where the coats are kept for the guests.

The hallways were pretty much empty, save for a stray guest here and there. She kept to herself as she went.

Finally, she reached the pit. It was named so because of the pure _hell_ it is returning people's coats. You wouldn't _believe_ how shitty people get about their coats. At least one guest always requests to have theirs locked away somewhere, even though it's against policy.

She swept silently into the room, stumbling upon a scene she could've gone without witnessing. Charlie, the woman who was stuck on Pit-duty, was currently being smothered by an older guest. With his face.

Just as they almost knocked over a nearly-empty rack of coats, Ellen cleared her throat.

They leapt apart from each other. The man had black hair that was sprinkled with grey. His suit looked expensive enough to pay for a small house, and his face was blanketed with a cross between shock and guilt. His wide eyes darted to Charlie.

Charlie's red hair was frizzing out, chunks of it having escaped the bun it was trapped in. Ellen could guess why. She raised her eyebrow at the pair, and Charlie cleared her throat.

"It's not what it looks like?" She lamely tried, and everyone in the room cringed at her lame cover-up.

Ellen simply stared at her, not letting any indication of what she was thinking cross her face.

"Okay, it … might be... a little bit what it looked like – what did it look like?"

Ellen threw another glance at the uncomfortable man in the room, then looked at Charlie. "Do I really need to say anything?"

"No." Charlie quickly jumped to say, stepping towards her. "Ellen, _please_." She begged. "I need this job. I know it's asking a lot but – could you – I mean, would you please just… forget you saw anything?" She peeked at the man she had previously been groping. "I – I mean… please?"

Ellen let a few beats of silence pass. _She's really making this too easy_, she thought, and finally let a smile cross her face. "Forget what?"

Charlie beamed at her, and the man nearly collapsed with relief. He let out a sigh as well as a groan, running his hand through his thick greying hair. "Thank God," He muttered, and Ellen didn't miss catching a glimpse of the expensive looking wedding band that was probably weighing his finger down.

Charlie pressed a hand to Ellen's shoulder. "I know you don't owe me anything, and I have no right to ask – especially not after…" She looked down to her feet. "But could you just – cover for me? For like, five minutes?" She looked at the man behind Ellen, and bit her lip. "Twenty minutes?"

Ellen raised her eyebrows. "Twenty minutes?" She said, turning to look at the man behind her. His face turned an alarming shade of red, and he averted his eyes.

"I know – I know…" Charlie's entire body tensed up. "It's a while, but it's been quiet – so I mean… I don't think that you will have any problems… and… you know what." She said, seeing the look in Ellen's eye. "Never mind. Forget it! It was stupid of me to ask."

Ellen sighed heavily, pushing Charlie's hand off of her shoulder. "Fifteen minutes." She said, moving to sit at the table.

Charlie hopped up, all of the tension draining from her face. "Oh!" she squealed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah. Make it snappy, Casanova." She looked pointedly at the older man. "This doesn't mean I like it, but…"

"We'll be back in a flash," Charlie called over her shoulder, hauling the man out of the Pit.

Ellen watched them leave, and then sat there for a few beats of silence. Three minutes passed, and all was quiet. She shifted on the stool, glancing down at her watch. Seven minutes. She ran her hand over her hair, smoothing the bun and her fly-aways. She looked down at her watch again. Twelve minutes.

Finally, voices could be heard. Seconds later, a man with dark brown hair and a flushed face stumbled into the room. He reeked of booze, and was it not for the woman on his arm, he'd probably have fallen over.

"Sheperd." He slurred, slapping a piece of paper onto the edge of the counter. It fluttered off the edge, floating to the ground, and he giggled as he watched it go.

The woman cursed under her breath and swiped it off the ground. Because she let go of him to do it, he fell over on the ground. The woman sputtered an apology and slid the paper across the counter for Ellen, who remained silent as she plucked up the paper and left the woman to pick up her date off the ground.

She expertly flipped through the coats until she found what she was looking for. Thumbing the tan fabric, she slid her hand into the jacket and pulled something from the hidden pocket inside. Sliding the little black book into the bust of her uniform, she checked to make sure it was concealed before grabbing the man's coat off the hanger as well as the bright red coat that belonged to his date.

She calmly gave the guests their belongings and waited for the drunken man to struggle with signing his name on the sheet of paper. Finally, as she explained to them about the valets and party favors which waited for them at the door, Charlie slid back into the room.

Her face was glowing and her hair had been slicked back into a neat bun. She threw Ellen a secretive smile, nodding as she slipped onto the stool and took the Pit over again.

Ellen left with a wave, going left instead of right as she walked out. Her heels clicked against the marble as she walked with purpose through the empty halls. It was late; people would be leaving soon. She tugged the hairband from her bun, letting her hair fall down to her shoulder blades in waves.

As she turned a corner, she started taking off her uniform. First to go was the ugly, tasteless nametag clipped over the left of her chest. She held onto the chunky plastic as she continued. She reached down to the hem of her skirt, walking and releasing the safety pins from it. She removed the strip of fabric entirely, revealing a healthy portion of her thighs as she did so. Next to go was the collar, which had been Velcroed on. Finally, she folded up her strip of skirt into a neat rectangle, snapping a handle onto the top of it and tossing the chunky nametag along with the collar inside.

She stopped at a door. Looking down the hallway, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs she had just ascended. She quickly opened the door, slipping inside and silently closing it behind her just as voices echoed down the hall.

Once she was inside, she crossed the bedroom to a closet. In the closet was a new pair of shoes, jewelry, and a short black wig. Ellen might hate her catering job, but it's just her day job. Nothing beats her job at night.

She slid everything on, winding up her long brunette hair and securing the itchy black bob over the top. She looked in the mirror and double checked to make sure everything was in working order.

She finished it off with a pair of big black sunglasses that covered nearly her whole face, and stepped back out into the hallway. The people who had been coming up the stairs had long since moved on. She was alone again, but wasted no time as she made her way down the hall to the window at the other end.

She slid it open and popped the screen out with ease. Tossing her legs over, she glanced behind her to make sure the coast was clear before leaping out into the cool night air. She slid the window shut again and popped the screen back into place.

She picked her way out from the hedges that were in front of the window, emerging in a side yard. She marched out to a cement path and her new red heels clicked across it.

People had started to leave, and as such, there was a line of traffic leading out the main gate. She walked through the grass of the yard again and casually slid into the line for the valet, like she had been there all along.

A black car pulled up and she stepped forward, waiting for the valet to open her door for her. "Oh, mam!" The valet suddenly chirped, and Ellen froze. She kept her composure as she turned to the familiar face of Howard the Hugger, a chipper and altogether friendly employee she had befriended a few months ago.

He didn't recognize her as he said, "You forgot your party favors!"

She smiled, shaking her head and waving her hand in dismissal. "Quite alright," She easily slid into a British accent, and he was none the wiser.

"Well, if you're sure…" He said, watching her with genuine eyes, and she almost felt guilty for tricking him. Almost.

"A hundred percent." She nodded, finally ducking into the car and letting him close the door for her. She cleared her throat, smoothing down her skirt as she said, "You're punctual."

"When it's something I want, I don't dick around." Said the man beside her. She raised her eyebrow at the phrasing, but otherwise kept her mouth shut. He tapped on the seat in front of them, and the car pulled away.

"Well, let's make this easy then." She slid her hand into the bust of her dress, and his eyebrows nearly disappeared into his black hair. She ignored his smug expression as she pulled out the little black book and his smile dropped as he caught sight of it.

"That's not what we agreed upon." His jaw was tight.

"You wanted a phone number, no?" She said, flipping through the pages.

"I wanted his phone." His voice had grown darker, but she didn't let it faze her.

"It's quite difficult to acquire someone's cellphone when they constantly have it on their person."

"That's not my problem."

She clenched her jaw, her temper flaring. She snapped the book shut. Her eyes flashed as she looked him in the eye. "Look, this is the best I could do. The man you requested is not an easy man to fool. I know it's not your _problem_, but maybe you'll listen when I tell you that what I got you is better than any cell phone."

His chin tilted up in defiance, but he pressed his lips tightly together. "Alright then." He held out his hand and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I want my money." She said.

"And you'll get it. As soon as I get what I asked for." He clenched his jaw.

"Hey, a lot of people would kill to get their hands on this!" She snapped, her temper getting the better of her. She snatched the book away and held it protectively in her hands. "I held up my end of the bargain; a deal's a deal!"

"No, the deal was you get his _cell phone _– and you broke that deal –"

"No! The _deal _was I get his _contact _information. But I got you more than that! Take two seconds to pull your head out of your ass and look at this thing, and maybe you'll see that –"

"How can I look at it if you won't _give it to me_?"

"I won't give it to you until you pay me! This shit isn't for free!"

He slammed his fist against the window, causing it to quiver. "_Enough_," He bellowed.

Quicker than he expected, she had his hand twisted around and her face was inches from his own.

"One," she paused, nudging his hand forward to emphasize her point, and he grunted in pain. "Wrong move, and your hand is …" she moved it a little more, allowing the sound of his bones cracking slightly to enter the silence of the car. "Get it?"

He grunted in agreement and she lessened the pressure ever so slightly. "Now that I have your attention, you're going to tell me where my money is, and I'll calmly retrieve it."

He panted, looking down at his legs. She raised an eyebrow, patting down his pants pockets with her free hand. "Here? Is it in here?"

Finally, she came into contact with the wad of cash, neatly clipped together with an expensive looking golden clip. She triumphantly stuffed it into the bust of her dress, smirking at him as she did so.

"Not the _whole damn thi –_" He hissed as she suddenly twisted his hand again, right at the breaking point – but stopped there. "Alright, fuck! Take all of it! Just, give me the stupid book, and get out!"

She smiled at him. "Since you asked so nicely." She dropped his hand and threw the book at his chest. He worked his jaw as he gingerly massaged his sore hand, and she tapped the seat in the same manner that he had. The driver pulled the car to a stop and she winked at him. "Pleasure doing business with you," She opened the door and slid out, stepping onto the sidewalk. As soon as the door shut behind her, the black car sped away and she was left on the street alone.

She patted the wad under her bra and smiled, sighing contentedly. She spun on her heel and started the trek onward, whistling happily as she went. The night was drawing to a close. Many people had gone in for the night, leaving the streets relatively empty – save for the stray hobo here and there. Mostly, they kept to themselves.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the cop car until it was right next to her. Actually, it also probably had something to do with the fact that it was an undercover cop car – but she was pretty good at spotting those, so that wasn't much of an excuse. Still, she knew that if it had been a standard cop car, she would've noticed it much sooner.

She cursed under her breath as it slowed came to a stop a few feet in front of her. The passenger window rolled down, and a young, bright eyed, bushy-tailed cop could be seen leaning over the console.

"Evening, mam." He said, and she waved her hand at him without slowing down. "It's pretty dark out for a woman to be walking the streets of Gotham alone." He called, expecting her to stop.

She kept walking.

"Hey," He called again, but she didn't stop. The car shifted gears, and it slowly crawled backwards, keeping pace with her. "I'm talking to you!" His voice was a mixture of surprise, frustration, and suspicion.

_Damn cops_. She thought, scowling to herself. _So fucking cocky._ "My mother told me not to talk to strange men in cars." She called without slowing down or turning to look at him.

"I'm a police officer." She could practically hear the frown in his voice, and she snorted.

Her eyebrow was raised. "What's your point?"

"I – Well," He sputtered. "I'm not going to _hurt _you. It's my job to protect you! And I'm telling you that the streets are dangerous at this time, I shouldn't _have _to tell you that Gotham is dangerous at night. Did you mother mention that?"

She stopped, hands on hips, and turned to face him. "Yes, as a matter of fact, she did! She said, '_Ellen, Gotham is a shitty, shitty town, filled with shitty, shitty people. They all lie, every last one of 'em, so don't listen to any of 'em. Not even the cops, cause cops can be crooked, too.'" _She paused, narrowing her eyes and leaning over so she could seem him better. _"_'Especially_ not the rookie cops who prowl the streets at night and try to tell you what you already know.'"_

He blinked. "She said that? She told you not to trust cops?"

Ellen shrugged, letting her hands fall from her hips. "Well, that last part might have been an embellishment, but yeah. And honestly, she's kind of right. So I'm going to go home now."

With that, she turned and kept walking.

The car beside her came to a stop, and she smiled in triumph. She got about another five steps before the engine shut off behind her and a car door opened. Bristling, she whirled on her heels.

_Unbelieveable_. She seethed to herself, watching as the young cop made his way around his car and casually leapt onto the sidewalk.

"What, are you gonna arrest me now?" She snapped, her hands balled into fists.

He raised his eyebrows. "Hadn't planned on it. Why? Should I be?"

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Then what are you doing?"

"I'm keeping the streets safe." He said, putting his hands up in defense. "So, my job."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What, is pestering pedestrians in the description?"

"Helping those who can't help themselves." He said simply, coming to a stop in front of her.

"What is that? Like a code?"

"Something like that." He said, sliding his hands in his pockets.

"Well, good thing I _can_ help myself. I'll be on my way now… you can just, you know. Leave." She turned and continued down the sidewalk.

His footsteps echoed behind her. "Isn't it a violation of my rights for you to stalk me?" She called over her shoulder without turning around.

"Probably." He simply said, and she turned to look at him in surprise. "Good thing I'm not stalking you."

"Oh, really? What do you call this, then?"

"I'm… escorting you," He said, mulling it over in his head. "Yeah. I, a man of the law, am escorting you through the gritty streets of Gotham."

"If you weren't a cop, this would be considered stalking." He said nothing as they kept walking, Ellen always seven steps ahead of him. "So you realize that you're currently in the process of doing exactly what you're trying to protect me from, right?"

He sniffed, "You can see it that way if you want."

"Oh, as long as you can get to sleep at night, right?" She snapped, and he kept quiet. "God," She hissed under her breath, stomping more quickly now. "You are so annoying."

He picked up the pace, easily falling into step with her. "You wanna know the real reason I'm walking with you right now?"

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows, noting that he had dark hair and gentle brown eyes. She wished he had stayed behind her. It was easier to be annoyed with him when she didn't have to look those earnest eyes. She grunted in consent, turning to face forward again.

"That man has been shadowing you for the past ten minutes." He jerked his chin behind them, and she looked at him in surprise. Her eyes flickered backwards, "Don't look!" He commanded, and she sighed.

"Oh." Her voice went slightly squeaky, and she forced herself to keep quiet.

In all honesty, she knew that man had been following her. She _hadn't_ seen the cop car, but she wasn't afraid of the man following her. Thugs, she can deal with. But Officer Friendly didn't need to know that. She didn't need to give him a reason to think she was anything other than the defenseless citizen he thought he was protecting. She didn't need to draw attention to herself, not now.

They walked on for a while, neither saying a word, and she came to a stop outside an apartment complex. She fiddled with the small clutch in her hands and turned to him. "Alright," She allowed herself to glance at where the thug had been tracking her. He was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean he had left. He had simply disappeared from sight. "This is me."

The officer nodded and they stood there for a few seconds. "Well aren't you gonna leave?" She said, blinking at him.

"Aren't _you_ going to go in?" He countered, and her eyes narrowed before she had the chance to stop herself.

"Yeah, I just don't want you to see which apartment I buzz myself into." She growled, and he smirked.

"I'm just making sure that thug doesn't follow you."

She bit back a frustrated sigh. "He won't."

"You don't know that. You didn't even know he was following you. I already came this far, just go ahead in and I'll leave when I feel sure you're safe."

She surreptitiously worked her jaw, drawing in a slow breath. "Alright, Deputy Do Right." She backed up, glancing down the road again and not seeing the thug. "You win." She flapped a hand over her shoulder. "Cheers," She called behind her, and buzzed the apartment belonging to Fajardo.

Without a backwards glance, she strode into the building and straightened the sunglasses on her face when she stepped into the lobby. She nodded at the man who leaned lazily against the counter of the front desk.

She kept walking, straight to the elevators which surprisingly opened right up. She stepped on and looked at her reflection in the mirrors of the doors. As she studied her lithe, thin body, and short black bob (which looked unnatural to her eyes because she's used to long brown hair), she thought about the strange cop she had encountered. He was nice enough, but hopefully that was the last she saw of him.

She didn't need some rookie cop on her trail right now. Business was good, and she didn't wanna have to deal with him.

Finally the doors slid open. She walked down the carpeted hallway, and right before she reached the doors, she slid her high heels and sunglasses off. She walked past the Fajardo apartment, stopping instead in front of apartment 43 – Sheperd's apartment.

She pulled out the device she uses for doors that are equipped with locks requiring key cards – like in hotels, or in this case, richy-rich-apartments in Gotham. In a few seconds, the light flashed green. She quietly turned the knob and removed the device, wiping down the knob to remove her prints. She silently closed the door behind her before it had the chance to lock again, once again wiping away her prints. One can never be too careful.

The lights were off. It was pitch dark, and she expertly padded through the apartment. She had drawn up a blueprint of the layout of these apartments. Weeks of preparation go into everything she does, and this time is no different. That cop was a hiccup in her plan, but other than that it's gone off without a hitch.

Even Charlie had unwittingly helped it along, giving her an excuse to be alone in the Pit so she could grab the little booklet to give to Duke – the man from the car. It had Sheperd's address, phone number, office number, and other various information in it, but she knew what Duke was after.

While she had thumbed through the pages in the car, she gathered all the information she'd need to get into Sheperd's apartment. She also knew from the weeks of preparation beforehand that the Fajardo apartment was empty, because they were on vacation. Since they had a cat that needed fed, they left it unlocked for their cat-sitter, making it the prime excuse for her to gain access to the building. People are dumb.

She crept through the house and past the kitchen. It was silent, and she checked all of the rooms. Surprisingly, the apartment was empty. That's good and bad – good for obvious reasons, but bad because that means he could come through the door at any given moment. She had less time than she thought.

Hurrying through the apartment, she kept the lights off as she went so she didn't alert anyone to her presence. She slid on a pair of black silky gloves, and used a flashlight sparingly.

She was in his office. She approached his computer and pulled out a thumb drive. The chair at his desk was as soft as a cloud, and it felt like a dream because she had been walking in heels all night. It didn't take long to transfer all the information, and when she was finished she returned everything exactly as it was.

The safe was hidden in the most obvious of places – a closet in his bedroom. She made quick work of breaking into it, retrieved the keys and envelope within, pausing to frown at a necklace. It had a medallion on it. She hesitated a moment before switching on the flashlight to get a better look, squinting to try and read the initials that were engraved on the back. _KVL_, in elegant script. She hesitated only a moment before pocketing that as well.

"Innocent pedestrian, huh?" A familiar voice barked out behind her. The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking filled the otherwise silent room, and Ellen seized up in surprise for a moment. Her thoughts swam out of her head, pouring out of her ear and into the carpet.

She blinked, trying to focus through the surprise. Shaking it off, she calmly shut the safe and stood.

"This is the part where you _freeze_!" Deputy Do Right yelled, and Ellen raised her hands in the air.

"I must admit, I did underestimate you." She said. "How did you know?"

He narrowed his eye, not moving the gun away from her. "It's my job."

One half of her mouth tugged up in an amused smirk. "Right! Helping those who can't help themselves."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he had the chance, she hit the floor and tucked her head down as she rolled to the side and threw a dagger at him. It clipped him on the shoulder, but he just rolled with it and grit his teeth.

A shot rang out, but she was fast – faster than he had anticipated, she was sure. He fired again as she practically flew past him, but she was out the door before he could even land a shot.

And then he was chasing her, first down the hallway, and then through the apartment, and then she slammed the door to the apartment behind her and he struggled to get it open again, because he had to use the keycard.

As soon as he was out of the apartment, he darted into the hallway and fired at the elevator doors as they slid shut. She dove to the side, dodging the ricocheting bullets. The elevator closed and he cursed under his breath. He sprinted to the fire escape, bounding down the stairs as fast as he could.

He emerged in the lobby just as she reached the doors, and she sprinted out into the night. He gave chase, yelling at the man at the front desk to call the police, but not stopping to see if he complied.

He saw a flash of short black hair and bare feet skidding around the side of the apartment. His boots pounded the pavement as he tore around the corner, his face colliding with something right as he started to round it.

He fell to the ground and his vision swam before him. Something clattered to the ground near his head, and he looked over to see a crowbar just out of reach. He looked up and saw the woman in the short black dress, with short black hair, but something was different. In his hazy mind, he tried to think through the smell of the sticky wet substance gushing out of his nose.

"You're fast." He swallowed, and she strode forward, snatching the gun from his hands. He struggled to stay awake, struggled to sit up, but she kicked him in the nose again.

"I told you not to follow me!" She growled, and his head cracked against the pavement. He groaned, and guilt flashed through her for a moment. "Why didn't you listen!? Why couldn't you just mind your own damn business?"

"It's my job," He muttered, right before the blackness took him. Ellen stared down at the bloodied cop lying unconscious before her. She shook her head and emptied the gun of its bullets. Once that was done, and sirens rang out in the not-too-distant-distance, she tossed the disarmed weapon back down to his chest.

She spun on her heels and sprinted down the alley, not looking back.

* * *

**(A/N): This is something I've wanted to do for a while. It'll be a John Blake/OC because... John Blake. Yum. What do you guys think? Should I continue?**


	2. Twists and Turns

**It's not what who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me. - ****_Batman_**

Later that night, Ellen decided to skip going back to her apartment. For a number of reasons: first of all, she wasn't sure if the police could have somehow found out who she is. In turn, they'd find out where she lived – and she wasn't one to lose. Being captured? That's pretty damn close to losing.

Second of all, she had more tools in her hands than she knew what to do with. For the last few months, she had been searching for her big break, and now that she had it, she was a bit overwhelmed. It was the risk that went along with planning something dangerous and insane, she supposed. Once you accomplish it, there's always the thawing period; the period of time that you adjust to being a step ahead of the game for once.

She found herself sitting, of all places, inside a blue slide. That's right. Ellen the Clandestine Degenerate is hiding out in a children's park. At four in the morning. Talk about hiding in plain sight. She stared up at the slick blue plastic above her, slipping the thumb drive in and out of itself as she thought.

Her next step would be to review what she has. She needs to find a computer, and soon, so she can actually put this stupid thumb drive to use. Preferably before Monday, since she'd have to work again, and she doesn't plot well while catering to the condescending aristocrats of Gotham.

Pulling the envelope out of her pocket, she held it up and futilely squinted. She let out a frustrated huff and let her hands thud against the plastic of the slide, envelope crumpled in her fist. It was much too dark to try to read the damn thing.

"What I would give for a flashlight," she muttered, running a single hand through her hair. The one flashlight she _did _have was lost back in that drunkard's apartment, all thanks to Deputy Do Right.

Hand still tangled in her hair, Ellen let her wig slide from her head. Her dark hair tumbled down the blue plastic around her shoulders, and her hands fluffed through her real hair, her eyes closing of their own accord.

Fugitive or not, she was still human, and as such, exhaustion had rested its unforgiving hands on her. She was unable to resist its clutches, and soon enough, sleep took her…

* * *

"Hello." The tiniest voice Ellen had ever heard in her life chirped. She jumped slightly, throwing her arms up so she was able to steady herself in the slide. The plastic wiggled slightly under her weight as she shifted her eyes to the top of the slide.

A small child was leaning down, her head poking into the entrance of the slide. Her hair was matted and Ellen could imagine that it was blonde at one time, but that was a long, long time ago. Her skin was smeared with dirt and other miscellaneous substances. The only healthy thing about her were her bright blue curious eyes, which seemed to emit their own light as she blocked the morning sun from Ellen's view.

"Do you feel safe here, too?" She continued in that tiny little voice, and Ellen's heart tugged.

She blinked. This child reminded her of someone she knew. Her eyes trailed away from the child as she looked around. Her thoughts didn't need to be cleared of sleep; she hadn't been in a deep sleep for years. Last night was no exception.

She cleared her throat. "Could you point me in the direction of the nearest diner?"

The child rocked back on her heels, letting one hand fall from the top of the slide so it could shove some stringy hair from her face. "I _could_." She said, and Ellen waited for her to elaborate.

"Would you?" She filled the growing silence.

"One condition." The child finally said, locking eyes with Ellen. "Bring me a stack of their pancakes." She paused, and then added, "With blueberry syrup."

Ellen's eyebrows shot to the top of the slide. "I wonder, are you as cute as you are clever when you're not covered head-to-toe in dirt?"

Her mouth tugged up into a satisfied smirk. "Probably." She said without shame.

Ellen considered the child for a long while, reached her conclusions, and slid the rest of the way out of the slide. She began to walk across the mulch coated playground, slapping her hand on the tilt-a-whirl to make it spin and calling "Come on, then," Over her shoulder.

Sounds of heavy footfalls on the jungle gym fell across the playground. Ellen let herself smile in amusement, waiting as the metallic footsteps turned to crunching ones as she made her way to Ellen's side.

And then she surprised her by darting past. Ellen frowned, thinking the child had changed her mind, but then she turned around so that she was running backwards. "Come on, slow poke! You wanna get there before the work rush?"

Ellen chuckled. "We'll get there when we get there. Rushing the ball is all about ball control, kid. If you run the ball, you control the clock. If you control the clock, you usually control the game."

The child stopped in her tracks, frowning at Ellen as she calmly continued to close the distance between them. "I don't get it. We're playing a game?"

It was Ellen's turn to smirk as she passed the child, looking straight ahead as she went. "Always." She said without looking back.

The child returned to her side, keeping pace with her this time. "Well okay then. We'll walk. Coulda just _asked_."

Ellen let out a hearty laugh, throwing her arm around the dirty child's shoulders.

* * *

The child stopped her incessant talking abruptly. They were on a crowded street, and Ellen had stuffed her wig away in one of her many pockets along the way. She had also slid her shoes back on.

"Kid?" Ellen raised her eyebrow, scratching her cheek.

She blinked, shaking her head. "Fshh – uh, yeah." She stuttered, and cleared her throat. "That's it." A tiny dirty finger raised to point out a lone diner.

Ellen's eyes fell on a neon sign, which twitched as it advertised _Jerry's Stackhouse_. She looked at the sign out front, which read in big black block letters, _Now Serving Lunch. _The parking lot was packed, and she could see from their standpoint that it was wall-to-wall people inside.

She snorted. "So much for dodging the morning traffic," She chortled, and bumped her elbow with the kid's shoulder in amusement, expecting her to take the bait and make a comment about walking instead of running. She stared down at the child's blank face, clearly unamused as she backed up towards the alley behind them. "Hey, what are you doing?" Ellen asked, frowning and throwing her hands up. "Pancakes are _that way_," She jerked her head towards the stack house.

The child only shook her head, slinking closer and closer to the mouth of the alley. "No, that's okay. I'll wait here."

"What?" Ellen scrunched her face in confusion, taking a step closer to the child. "No. Don't be stupid, come on."

The kid snapped, turning from chatty-sweetheart to bratty-snot-nose in the blink of an eye. "No!" She yelled, stomping her foot. "_You _don't be stupid! Do you _honestly _think they'll serve _me_?" She snorted out a choked up laugh. "That's funny!" She gestured to herself, shaking her head. "They'll take one look at me and throw me out before I even get the chance to _breathe _in their direction."

Ellen stumbled back, gob smacked by the words she was hearing. She blinked, shaking her head to clear it of the surprise. "Are you _nuts_? They won't turn away a hungry child!" And then she paused, a memory tugging at the back of her mind, and she hesitated.

Seeing this, the child let out another bitter laugh. "Yeah. You know I'm right. Just go ahead, I'll be fine."

Ellen's jaw clenched, and she strode up to the child before she could get two steps closer to the alley. She latched onto the child's shoulder, dragging her across the street with a firm _no_.

Before the child even really knew what was happening, Ellen had pushed her through the door of the stack house and stepped in behind her. The door closed behind them with a jingle, and the smell of maple syrup and fried sausage hit them like a wall.

The diner was close-quarters, and several customers turned to look at the newcomers. Ellen bet her bottom dollar that the majority of people in here were regulars. This whole diner just _screamed_ small-town-ambiance, and that attracted a lot of paying customers. For some reason, pancakes and small-towns just fit together.

Every one of the heads that turned to look at them blinked in surprise at the tall disheveled woman, and the small filthy child. Reactions were mixed. Some people shook their heads in pity and turned back to their food. Others screwed their face up in disgust, shaking _their _heads in anger. A few nodded in her direction, and she returned the favor. Mostly, people kept to their own business.

A hostess was stationed at the entrance of the restaurant. The sugary-sweet smile hesitated at the appearance of her newest customers. She cleared her throat in an attempt to bide her time, and Ellen wasted none in stepping forward, dragging the kid behind her.

"C-Can I help you?" The brunette said, clearly unsure what to do.

Ellen raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Table for two, please."

"Oh." The hostess blinked. She looked down at the child, her smile faltering. "Yes. Wait here just a moment."

The hostess stepped away and briskly trotted back to disappear in the kitchens. The child beside Ellen suddenly spoke up. "Crap," She said, her voice sounding frantic. "Crap! You see – " She lashed out, smacking Ellen on the arm. "I told you! I told you they'd do this, and you didn't listen to me! Why didn't you just _listen_-"

Ellen firmly gripped both of the child's shoulders, giving her a rough shake as she crouched to be eye level with her. "Because you're hungry." She snapped. "Because _I'm _hungry. And because I have money. We're two hungry _paying _customers, who just stepped into a diner. That's all."

The child shook her head, and Ellen was surprised to actually see her eyes glass over. "No." she stubbornly said, trying to jerk out of her hands. "I don't even _know _you," She started, her voice rising, and Ellen quickly nipped that in the bud by getting in her face and quietly commanding her to _lower her voice_. The child immediately stopped, her eyes wide as she watched Ellen.

Finally, mercifully, she jerked her shoulder out from under Ellen's grip and stood with her hands fisted at her side. She grumbled under her breath and Ellen straightened as the hostess came back, this time trailing behind a man who appeared to be in his forties.

Ellen looked him up and down in a calculating way. He had black hair. It was curly and he kept it short, and his face was clean shaven. His black button-up shirt had his name stitched into the pocket – _Jerry _– and his sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows.

He stopped before them, hands on hips, and a polite smile tugged at his lips. "What can we do for you ladies?"

Ellen's annoyance spiked just a bit. "Just a table for two." She said shortly, keeping her voice level.

His eyes flickered down to the child beside Ellen. "Mhm. Well," He gestured to the eating area, "As you can see, we're positively full to capacity at this point and time. Unfortunately, we're going to have to politely decline service –"

That was it. Ellen snapped. "Oh, you're full?" She ground out, turning her attention to an aisle of empty tables with two seats. "Are you serving ghosts now? The Invisible Woman waiting for Mister Fantastic and The Human Torch, perhaps?"

Jerry's smile fell. He straightened up and puffed out his chest. "Mam, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"_Seriously_? You're turning away a _hungry child_ and a _paying customer_ –" Her voice had risen, grabbing the attention of the diner. Everyone who hadn't been watching the little scene unfold before was certainly watching now. Some people were shaking their heads again, mostly, it seemed, out of disgust. Whether for Ellen and the child, or for the poor service, remained to be seen.

"There's a McDonald's down the street –" He started, and abruptly stopped when he saw a nearby table of customers who were still waiting for their food get up. They gathered their things and stiffly walked past, shooting Jerry a scolding look, and offering sympathy to the child next to Ellen.

The child watched them pass with shock evident on her features. She bumped her tiny fist with the back of Ellen's thigh, her eyes on the family leaving the entire time. Ellen placed her hand on the child's shoulder.

"We'd like a table for two _please_." Ellen asked through her teeth, her eyes dangerous as she stared Jerry down. _His move_.

Jerry's gaze swept across the diner at all of his customers, who were waiting to see what he'd say. He cleared his throat and grudgingly gestured to one of the nearby tables. "This way, mam." His voice was tight and his face was anything but cordial.

Still, he was serving them, and Ellen let a smirk cross her face. The child trailed behind them, almost in a daze, and slid into her chair with her eyes focused on her feet. Ellen sat down and bitterly thanked Jerry for their menus.

They had been seated next to a table with an old couple. They spoke in hissing whispers, throwing glances over their shoulder at the pair of disruptive girls the whole time.

Chairs screeched across the floors as the old couple abruptly stood from their seats. Leaving their food untouched, they hastily threw a wad of cash onto the table and stamped past Ellen's table, fixing her with a hateful glare.

Ellen resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them, and instead fixed them with her own glare over the top of her menu.

They didn't say much after that until their waitress came. She was the nicest of any of the rest of her colleagues had been, fixing the child with a comforting smile and politely asking for their orders. They decided to get two orders of pancakes along with a single order of Belgian waffles.

Ellen blew on the steaming coffee in her hands, looking over the top of her mug at the child. "So pancakes and blueberry syrup, huh?" She teased, watching as the ravenous child devoured the huge stack of pancakes piled in front of her.

"Beats plain old Belgian waffles." She said around a mouthful of fluffy pastry. Her fork dipped into a pool of blueberry syrup, sopping it up before she stuffed it into her mouth as well.

"Oh ho ho," Ellen grinned, placing her cup down and leaning forward. "That's how it is. Have you even tried Belgian waffles before?"

The child shrugged. "I don't get the chance to eat like this much."

Ellen's smile fell. She looked down at her plate, at the strawberries and powdered sugar topping her breakfast. She'd eaten most of it already; only half of one waffle remained. The plate made a quiet scraping sound as she pushed it across the table at the child. "Don't knock it 'till you've tried it," she said.

The child looked up from her now empty plate, eyeing the waffles hungrily. "I'm not gonna eat your breakfast." She said, though her eyes betrayed her.

"Well, neither am I! And one of us has to." Ellen pursed her lips in challenge at the kid, whose eyes flickered up to Ellen.

"Alright…" she quietly caved, reaching forward to stab the waffle with her fork. "One bite."

Ellen grinned triumphantly, watching as the child cut a square of waffle out. "No syrup?" She asked, scrunching up her nose.

Ellen raised an eyebrow. "Just try it like that. If you don't like it, use as much syrup as your heart desires." The child pressed her lips together, but raised the bite of waffle to her mouth. "Wait!" Ellen exclaimed. "You have to get a piece of strawberry to go with it; otherwise it's just glorified toast."

"Or _maybe_ that's what the syrup is for." The kid teased, but waited patiently while Ellen took the fork from her and stabbed a strawberry for her. She passed the fork back over, and at that exact moment, the bell to the door of the diner jingled. Ellen's eyes glanced up at the newcomer before she turned her attention back to the child, waiting for her reaction.

She did a double take. Her blood went cold as she watched the newcomer, her hands grasping the edge of the counter in a white knuckle grip. "Shit," She muttered. "Shitshitshit!"

The child looked up at her with wide eyes. "Ellen? I said I like it!" She frowned. "What's wrong?" She started to turn around so she could see what Ellen was gawking at, but Ellen's hand smacked down on top of the child's.

"Get your things. _Now_." Ellen commanded in a low voice, and the child's back stiffened. She nodded tightly, and the two started to slide out of their seats, but then the child came to a stop.

"_Now_, kid!" Ellen hissed, shifting uneasily on her feet and strategically stepping behind one of the pillars that were used to hold the diner up.

The child stared down at the still full plate of pancakes and blueberry syrup they had ordered. "But," she pouted, looking up at Ellen with wide eyes. "We already paid for this."

"Forget the damn pancakes!" She incredulously exclaimed. The child's shoulders slumped and she reluctantly started to stand, and guilt coursed through Ellen. When was the last time this child ate something other than scraps? Other than what she could scavenge on the streets?... When would the next time be?

She groaned, cursing herself for what she was about to do. Ellen stepped out from behind the pillar and signaled to her waitress. "Excuse me," Her voice cut across the short distance, but it was enough to grab the attention of the newcomer standing at the counter. She ignored them and focused on the waitress. "Can we get a to-go box, please?"

"Sure, sweetie. Stay right there." The older woman replied in a kind voice. She picked up the last of the plates from her table and made her way back to the kitchens. Ellen's eyes followed the waitress until she passed the counter.

Then, her eyes fell on Deputy Do Right, who was squinting at her in confusion with one hand on the counter. He appeared to have stopped talking mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open and the employee at the counter listening expectantly.

Ellen noticed for the first time that it was Jerry behind the counter, and that his finger was pointed directly at Ellen. And at the same moment, she saw recognition flash across Deputy Do Right's face.

* * *

**(A/N): I wrote a little for you, now write a little for me. :) Review!**

**P.S. I can't decide what time this will be set in. Either before or after The Dark Knight Rises, but _if_ it's going to be after, I'm afraid I'll have some trouble! I've never read the comics, or watched the cartoons or anything, and as such, I will struggle with how Blake's character would develop! Also, with what he and Batman's relationship would be. So I'm thinking before, when Blake is still fresh and new on the scene of being a cop. He's not necessarily naive, but he's not wise to the ways of criminals yet, either. **

**What are your thoughts?**


End file.
